


Of Knights and Shadows

by Flaming_Jorts



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Impact Wrestling | Total Nonstop Action Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Bayley is the best blacksmith but gets no respect, But much gayer, Deception, F/F, Inspired by A Knights Tale, Knight Becky, Princess Charlotte - Freeform, Sasha is too cute around Bayley, Tournaments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 23:24:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flaming_Jorts/pseuds/Flaming_Jorts
Summary: A simple peasant finds herself on a quest to prove her worth in the man's world of chivalry and knighthood by taking part in an annual tournament to crown the undisputed champion of the land. The consequence if she is found out was death. With the help of her brother and friends, Becky Lynch will try to keep up the deception while trying to not let her heart get in the way.





	Of Knights and Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> I recently rediscovered an old movie that I loved from my childhood. This is obviously heavily inspired by 'A Knight's Tale' but I have some fun twists in mind to bring a different flair to a story you might already be familiar with.

The harsh ping of a booted foot hitting steel plate rang through the forest.

“Well, he’s dead… Shame. Never got a chance to punch the bastard.”

“Is that all you can think about Finn? How are we going to get paid if he isn’t alive for the last leg?”

“We could probably get decent coin for the armor.”

“And then what? We get enough to live another week or so and then? There’s got to be a better option than that. Think!”

Finn looked across up the small embankment towards his younger sister Rebecca, better known to those close to her as simply Becky. Clad in the same shoddy, but still functioning white tunics, the only difference being that his sister had cut off the sleeves off to indulge a small amount of her own vanity.

Auburn hair pilled up on top of her head in a sloppy bun, held together by a stray piece of twine as several beads of sweat moved down her strong jawline. The mid afternoon sun high in the sky, uninterrupted by the few wisps of clouds occupying the air above. “We should speak to Heyman.”

“Why’re we speaking to Heyman?” Interrupted the voice of their friend Sasha. The exotic woman stood out in the countryside of Fleihrburgh. Her raven hair streaked with brightly colored blue and purple beaded braids a reminder. The braids one of the few things she remembers of her mother.

“Sir Dudley is dead.” Becky stated matter of fact as Sasha strode nearer to the embankment, coming to a stop next to the fiery haired woman.

“Really? Shame. Always wanted to punch that smarmy lil weasel.”

“Right! That’s exactly what I was saying.” Finn stated like his words were now justified.

“Oh, shut up you two!” Becky cried out in exasperation. Hands on her hips. “We must inform the umpire before the next match. Maybe we can get the buy in coin back.”

“Come now. The Princess falling out of thin air into my lap is more likely than getting a single coin back from Heyman.”

“He’s right.” Sasha said. As the organizer of the tournament the portly, balding man was in charge of everything. The kingdom of Fleihrburgh was divided into four regions that each held their own regional tournaments with the top three knights from each moving onto the annual tournament of champions that took place at the main castle where the King and his sole heir the princess stayed.

Becky huffed, shoulders deflating as she found herself outnumbered. “So, what do you two propose we do? Strap a dead man to a horse and lash the lance to his arm? We’ll be caught and hung for the sheer stupidity of it.”

Finn looked down at the body of Sir Matthew ‘Spike’ Dudley, the short man reeked of alcohol. It was a miracle that he’d even managed to stay in the running for a top three spot, but he had been trained by his brothers. His entire family lineage had been champions of past tournaments.

The knight’s body was covered in plate mail from head to toe. His visage covered behind a steel full helm sparking the small ember of an idea that quickly roared into a fire.

“What if we did though?” Finn said loudly. “Put a dead man back on the horse.”

Becky looked at him with incredulity. “You’ve gone mad? Has the plague burned away your brain?”

“What are you proposing?” Sasha asked with a bit of hesitation.

“You’re going to listen to this nonsense?”

“Might as well hear him out. We don’t seem to have any good options. Maybe we need to think outside the box.” Sasha explained with a shrug.

Becky’s gaze flitted back and forth between the two before she threw her hands up in defeat. “Fine. Listen to the insane one. Go ahead then Finn. Blind us with your brilliance.”

Finn grinned at his sister. “No one but us knows of Dudley’s death.”

“And?”

“Patience sister. No one would be wise to Sir Dudley showing up for the final round as long as we don’t tell anyone he’s dead.”

“Are you really suggesting this?” Sasha asked. “How do you suggest we go about it?”

“If someone wears the armor and the helmet doesn’t come off, they’d be none the wiser.”

“Ok. So, you are mad. Good to know.” Becky said as she paced back and forth trying to come up with anything better and frustratingly coming up with nothing that ended with them in a good spot.

Finn smiled at his sister’s stubbornness. It was that stubbornness that might save them though. “I know you’ve been practicing at night when you think no one else is around.”

“What are you talking about?” A sudden burst of nerves from his words.

“Don’t play coy Becky. You’ve never been a good liar.”

Becky sneered at her brother for a moment before groaning. “If you are implying what I think you are, then you’ve no shred of sense left in your head.”

“I’m a little lost here. Care to fill me in?” Sasha asked as she watched the siblings argue back and forth.

“Becky here has been training behind our backs for the last year at least. Waiting till we were asleep and sneaking off to try her own hand at being a knight.” Smiling at the memories of the first time he’d caught onto her nightly habit. Accidentally stumbling upon his sister riding their trusty steed Buckbeak and practicing her jousting on tiny, handmade targets she must have assembled from spare bits of scrap from the stables.

“So that’s where you go at night.” Sasha said.

“Here I thought I was being careful.” Becky muttered to herself. “That still doesn’t mean I could pull this off. Besides, if they found out I’m a woman I’d be lucky if being hung was the worst thing to happen to me. It’s bad enough to be impersonating a knight. Why don’t you wear the armor? It was your plan after all.”

“It won’t fit me, too tall for it. And I’m under no illusion I could actually stand a chance out there.”

“And I can?”

“You are underestimating yourself Becky.”

“No. I’m really not.” Becky shot back, looking over at Sasha for backup but getting a look that said she wouldn’t have a defender there.

“I hate saying it, but Finn might be right here.” Sasha said carefully. Trying not to upset her friend but knowing there wasn’t another option with the next round scheduled so soon.

“Sir Dudley did most of the hard part. All you have to do is manage to not lose by more than one and we are guaranteed the third place prize. I know it’s a risk, but we don’t have another option and I’m not going hungry again.”

Becky pouted as she tried to come up with a better option. “Say I do this. We get the prize and they somehow don’t notice that its actually me beneath the armor. What then?”

Finn waved away her concern, seeing that she was starting to actually contemplate it. “We’ll figure that out whenever we come to it. But we don’t have much time. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t think it could work.” Physically wrenching the helm off of the body and tossing it over to Becky. “Trust me Becky. We can do this.”

“I’m going to hate myself for this.” Becky said as she looked down at the steel helm in her hands. “Fine. But if I die for this, I’m going to haunt you.”

Nearly an hour later and carefully making sure that the plate armor showed no sign of the woman beneath it saw the trio and the gates of the tournament arena. The cheers of the crowd inside roaring over the sound of trumpets as the match before reached its conclusion.

Becky sat atop the chestnut mare known as Buckbeak. She didn't understand the name but Sasha had named her and no one felt like questioning her. Nervously patting her silky mane trying to calm both horse and rider down. Knowing that the animal could feel her nerves and was reflecting them back at her.

The heavy, gray plate armor trimmed with black and silver felt like a prison. Locked inside with no real way out. She’d never worn the armor when training and was unaccustomed to the extra heft and the way it cut down her range of motion.

“Just focus and you can do this.” Finn said from her side. Handing her the heavy lance that even with her strength was still a struggle to hold with the extra weight of the armor. “Remember you just have to not lose by more than one. Play it safe.”

The rules of the jousting portion of the tournament were fairly straightforward. There were three rounds, but you could win outright at any time by knocking your opponent off the seat. If that shouldn’t happen then it would be down to who scored the most points. With two points given should you break a lance on the other knight and one point if you make contact, but the lance doesn’t break.

“I’ll do my best.”

Finn smiled and patted her knee as the gate began to slowly creak open. “I know you will. No matter what happens I’m proud of you.”

Becky smiled back beneath the helmet for a moment before gulping down the lump in her throat and ushering Buckbeak forward to trot out into the arena.

An overwhelming wall of noise and movement greeted her upon entrance. The wooden stands for the common people filled to the brim. Happy to have something to distract them from their day to day monotony and struggle.

Becky couldn’t help but feel a jolt of adrenaline at the sight. She’d been on the outside looking in, but it was an entirely different thing to be the subject of the cheers. Surrounded on all sides by the screaming masses.

It was surreal. She almost forgot how to breathe. The slow trot of her horse jolting her into remembering the customary salutation to the crowd. Holding her free gauntleted hand across her chest and raising it as high as the armor allowed.

These tournaments were one of the few places where the common folk and the noble class mixed in relative closeness. The winners of the genetic lottery sitting high and mighty in their own box, resplendent in cloth of the finest embroidery, drenched in opulence.

As was custom, Becky and her opponent brought their horses to a halt in front of the nobles to bow their heads in humility and loyalty to the crown.

A sudden flurry of activity captured Becky and the crowd’s attention. The marching group of twenty heavily armed and perfectly trained knights striding towards the stairs leading to the noble’s perch. Creating two perfect columns of steel, kept in such good condition that the sun glared off their helmets like beacons. The house crest on their armor painstakingly etched into the metal, but Becky couldn’t get a good enough look to recognize it.

A buzz of whispers moving through the crowd and gaining volume.

Becky could faintly make out a plume of color bouncing just above the corridor of helms. As they moved closer, she could eventually make out that the colors were from a collection of striking feathers from birds that the fiery haired woman had never dreamt of. Beautiful greens that seemed to shine like emeralds, blues that mixed in to create a clash of sky and sea. Hypnotizing with their brilliance as Becky’s eyes felt driven to follow like a fish to a lure bobbing in the water.

She caught a brief glimpse of flaxen hair through her helmet’s visor as the feathers climbed up to the box. A shock of understanding falling upon her head like a chariot when Becky noticed how all of the nobles in the box were standing with heads bowed. There was only two people in the land who garnered such respect in reaction to their presence.

“Holy shite,” she exclaimed to herself in a low voice. Suddenly even more aware of how nervous she was. Heart pounding out a song that she didn’t yet know the words to. Bowing her head lower still and forcing her eyes away from raised platform.

It was a rare sight to see the princess away from the castle, but as she had grown older and more confident Charlotte Flair had been making a concentrated effort to get to know her future kingdom better. Travelling from the green countryside of the Eastern border to the Western rocks and beaches where the land met the sea.

She was under no illusions that her image of the country would be muddled by declarations of her future arrival and had taken to travelling in relative secrecy to try and experience the real country she would someday rule.

She’d grown up in her father’s shadow, but it was time for Charlotte to step out into the light and make sure she was ready for the role.

Becky snuck a glance up at the vision of royalty as she sat down. Quickly bowing her head back downward and doing her best to ignore the way her entire body seemed to be drawn towards the princess. The golden robe with a velvety red lining sparkling with gems wrapped around the woman like it was floating. Drawn open to show the pale blue dress she had on beneath, held together by a silver broach shaped like a blossoming flower. The delicate material of the dress hinting at the endless legs beneath that Becky shouldn’t be noticing.

Not only was she impersonating a knight but now she was having untoward thoughts about a member of royalty. If she’d have been lucky to be hung before, drawn and quartered was seeming like a more likely end now.

Once the royal sat down Becky was able to lift her head fully. Happy for the helmet’s covering up of how her gaze wandered across every inch of the princess.

“To your starting position…”

Becky vaguely heard the words but didn’t respond. All her mental faculties not functioning beyond noticing how pretty Princess Charlotte was.

“Sir Dudley! To your starting position!”

It took a second for Becky to remember herself at the name. Forcefully shifting her eyes away from the young woman and looking at the ponytailed, irritated Paul Heyman. The portly man visibly annoyed at her already.

Becky quickly gave him a salute and urged Buckbeak on towards her side of the arena. For a single moment she thought that the Princess’ eyes had been on her but didn’t risk a clarifying look.

As the town crier loudly shouted out the introductions Charlotte was hardly listening. Something about the way the knight had been openly staring at her captured her attention. Even with the helmet obscuring the knight’s features their body language was expressive.

“Can I get you anything your highness?”

Charlotte smiled and looked over her shoulder at the young woman who’d been by her side for the last ten years. Her handmaiden Dana was beautiful in her own right and was as talented with a sword as any man in the kingdom. Her father had thought it prudent that she have security as his only remaining heir and hoped that most would be assailants assumed the blonde was a simple handmaiden.

“No thanks. Dana. Come and watch the proceedings.”

“I don’t understand how you can actually find enjoyment in such displays.” Dana grumbled as she sat next to Charlotte.

“It’s all in good fun. The people seem to enjoy it. Must you be so negative?”

“I’ll try to not let my attitude ruin the proceedings.”

Charlotte laughed and rested a hand on her trusted friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry so much. We’ll be back to the castle after a two day ride and then I’ll treat you to a good hunt on the grounds.”

“I’ll hold you to those words my lady.” Dana said. Settling back into her seat and trying valiantly to follow Charlotte’s instruction.

Down on the arena floor Becky’s nerves continued to rise as the pomp and circumstance continued. The blaring of trumpets reaching its crescendo as the green flag raised high in the sky.

From their spot at the side of the arena Finn and Sasha watched with bated breath. Both ignoring the tiny voice in their head that was telling them they’d made a mistake. Praying to whatever would listen that this would work, and Becky would come out the other side.

“So, what are you willing to bet she pulls this off?” Sasha asked.

“I’ll buy your ale tonight if she loses.” Finn answered. Keeping his eyes on his sister with a confident smile. “So be ready to pay for mine.”

“Awfully confident there. Do you know something I don’t?”

“I just trust my sister.” Turning to give the dark haired woman a quick wink. “She’s too stubborn to lose anyway.”

Becky had to momentarily loosen her grip on the lance. She’d been squeezing the handle so tightly that her knuckles had begun to ache.

Waiting for the flag to drop was some of the longest seconds in her life. Waiting and waiting for that signal to spur her horse forwards.

Each heartbeat lasting a lifetime.

The moment when the green flag finally dropped making it all real.

The world beneath her slowly blurring as Buckbeak picked up speed.

The distance between her and the opponent, whose name she couldn’t even recall, slowly dwindling till she swore she could see the color of his horse’s eyes.

The next thing she knew was the color of the sky. Blue, like the dress the Princess wore.

Her right side felt like it was unable to work properly. A wheezing sound coming from her lungs with each breath.

Unable to tell exactly why her lower body felt rooted in place while her upper body felt like it was flopping around out control.

A pair of hands pushed her body back into a vertical position and Becky’s head lolled on her shoulders. The blue was gone, replaced by the face of her friend Sasha.

“Bring back the blue Sasha. You can’t take the sky from me.”

“She’s delusional. Took that hit pretty hard.”

“You’re delusional!” Becky groaned out. The pain steadily flowing in after a brief period where she’d been blissfully unaware.

“At least she managed to not fall off her horse.” Finn’s voice broke through the haze of pain. “You alright sis?” He whispered in case any inquisitive ears were listening in.

“I’m going to beat you up if we get through this.”

Finn smiled and patted the horse’s flank. “She’ll be fine.”

The next round began with Becky down one point since the lance hadn’t broken when it struck her. She had two rounds to ensure the score didn’t get any worse.

The feeling of being struck true by a lance took her breath away even through the steel plating covering her chest. It was such a shock to her system and Becky already knew why. She hadn’t properly braced herself. Didn’t bother rotating her upper body to lessen the impact.

She wasn’t ready to give up yet. Her brother always said she had a fire that burned brighter than a blacksmith’s furnace and the first failure only strengthened her resolve to see this through.

They clashed once more, and Becky had already improved greatly. Both lances striking their targets true. The blow much easier to absorb now that she had an idea of what was coming.

When the score was announced as 3-1 Becky was dismayed to realize her opponent had broken his lance, so despite her improvement she’d fallen further behind.

Lazily she rode the horse to the back of the arena where Sasha and Finn waited. Each looking a bit more nervous than they were previously.

“You’ve got one more round to finish this.” Finn stated bluntly.

Becky stared down at him with a tiny grin he couldn’t see. Her voice sounding utterly confident in contradiction to the dire straits she was in. “I know. Got him right where I want him.”

Sasha snorted but something about the woman’s voice made her believe. Squeezing Becky’s fingers through the cow’s hide gloves she wore. “We’ll be right here waiting for you.”

At the end of the first round Charlotte had sprung up from her seat at the sight of one of the knights limply sitting in the saddle after taking a particularly viscous hit around their collarbone. The stirrups and survival instincts the only thing keeping them from plummeting off the horse.

The roar of the crowd was something Charlotte normally reveled in but something about the knight’s demeanor had captured her sympathy.

Perhaps it was how much smaller they were than the opponent, Sir Randall Orton. A man that she could tell would tower over the other knight.

Though she could vaguely recall tales of the Dudley clan before they were wiped out in a battle with a neighboring kingdom some ten years ago or so. Charlotte had never heard of this Matthew Dudley before, but she oddly felt herself internally rooting for the knight.

“Impressive.” Dana spoke from her side when she sat back down. “That was quite a blow and the tough bastard is ready for another go.”

“Indeed.” Was all Charlotte could manage without giving away her thoughts.

“They ride like an imbecile.” Came a voice from behind them. Charlotte looking back to see a balding man stand up from his chair to his full height, towering over everyone else. Smugness radiating off his face, so much that even his beard seemed smug. The fine black tunic and black hosen he wore fitting a look of intimidation and power he clearly hoped to achieve. “Heart, but no real skill. My squire could ride better.”

Charlotte held back a cringe as he walked closer. Flashing her what she assumed he thought was a dashing smile. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

A brief flash of his true anger at her not somehow knowing him was quickly hid behind a mask of chivalry. Bending over at the waist and bowing in a way that only the highest of nobles learned from the cradle. “Baron Thomas Corbin. It’s truly a pleasure meeting such beauty on this earth. How do you find the events Princess?”

“I was enjoying the end of the tournament.” Looking back at the roar of the crowd to see that the second round had passed without her watching. “And you have made me miss the last round.”

Dana could barely suppress laughter at Charlotte’s clear dismissal but rolled her eyes when the Baron failed to take the hint. “Apologies Princess. I just thought you would like the know the man who actually placed first in this region’s tournament. I must admit I was looking forward to seeing you in person at the Tournament of Champions, but I consider myself blessed to be graced with your presence this day.”

“And as sure as I am of your self-satisfaction, I would appreciate your silence. As champion you should appreciate spectators actually paying attention during a match. Would you not?”

The grumbled compliance brought a tiny smirk to her face as the flag dropped on the final round.

Becky knew what she had to do. Down by two points she had to do something drastic to ensure she didn’t lose by more than one.

A slight wind had picked up and the flag was waving lazily in the breeze before it was brought down and the round was on.

Buckbeak’s hooves slapping off the dirt was the only noise Becky could hear. Eyes focused on the target at hand.

Holding her stance till the last moment before throwing caution to the wind and thrusting the lance in her right arm forward. Taking the risk of opening herself up to a counterstrike and putting everything into hitting first. Eyes closing out of reflex when splinters of her lance flew towards her face.

Her opponents lance hit her a split second later and drove the wind out of her lungs once again.

Buckbeak turned automatically to stroll back to the end of the arena where Sasha and Finn were waiting.

“You did it!”

“I did?” Becky questioned her brother.

“You lost, but Sir Orton’s lance didn’t break the last round.” Sasha answered her unspoken question. “We had enough points to finish in third place!”

“That’s great.” Becky grunted out. “But I’ll be honest when I tell you I can hardly breathe right now.”

Finn frowned at the obvious discomfort his sister was in. “My guess is those hits hurt more than they should. Even though it fits you, it wasn’t made for your… umm body type.”

“No shit.” Becky growled back. “Take this please.” She said. Dropping the shattered lance into her brother’s hands and relieving the weight off her tired shoulder.

Becky slowly swung her leg over the saddle and let her feat reconnect with the ground. Her eyes moving to look towards where the Princess was sitting of their own accord but seeing only an empty chair. The feeling of disappointment filling her that she should not have another chance to see the other woman.

It was about a half hour later when the next hurdle for their deception in the form of the prize ceremony.

Baron Corbin had received his prize from Heyman and held the trophy up to the cheering crowds and it was all going smoothly until she retrieved her own, less impressive trophy for third place.

A stalwart looking blonde haired woman dressed in the colors of house Flair approached where they stood. Coming to a halt in front of Becky and sizing her up from toe to head. “Princess Charlotte would appreciate a moment of your time.”

Becky was dumbstruck and had the good sense to not reply verbally. Nodding her helmeted head to the woman who motioned behind her back. Summoning forth the group of knights she’d seen earlier. This time in a circular formation as they moved forward. Those same feathers poking up from inside the circle.

In a smooth move that spoke of how well they were trained, they swallowed up Becky into the circle and created a wall of steel around her and the Princess.

“Greetings Sir Dudley. I must say I was quite impressed with your performance even in defeat.”

Becky was in awe that such royalty was even speaking to her but managed a salute. Bending down onto her knee out of deference to being near a future Queen of the land.

Becky nearly jumped when she felt a hand grab the crook of her elbow and pull her back to her feet. “Rise. Please. I don’t wish to be bowed down to. I must admit I’ve always found the practice tiresome and dangerous to weak minded rulers. Let us be equal in posture if nothing else.”

The small smile that accompanied the Princess’ words made her feel a newfound respect for the woman that amplified any attraction she’d already been feeling. The exterior was obviously beautiful but the soul inside seemed untainted by the common trappings of those who wielded such immense power. All she could muster was another nod.

An amused smile and raised eyebrow garnered in response from the princess.

“I admire your tenacity and will. That strike in the first round would have fell most men.”

Becky wanted to speak up at that but bit her tongue. She was so close to making it out with the prize money and couldn’t risk revealing herself.

“Do you speak? Or has your tongue stopped working?” Charlotte questioned. Finding herself intrigued by the mysterious knight, who even clad in armor was still an inch shorter than her.

Becky was unsure what to do next when a new voice entered through a small gap in the knights.

“If I may Princess,” Sasha started to say. Moving through the space once Charlotte waved for the knights to let her in. “Sir Dudley is recovering from a blow to his throat he sustained in training several days ago. We were instructed to not allow him to speak for at least a weak to ensure it heals.”

Becky didn’t know how Sasha had came up with the lie on the fly but she was grateful for it.

“Well than remove your helmet so I can see the face of such a courageous knight.”

And suddenly Becky’s heartrate skyrocketed.

“My lady, I must apologize once again on Sir Dudley’s behalf. The first blow actually damaged the helmet to the point where it can’t be removed by normal means.”

Becky could kiss Sasha for coming up with another lie so easily.

Charlotte frowned but responded with kindness and understanding. “Most unfortunate. Well I will have to wait to see your face till the opening dinner.”

“The what?” Sasha asked.

Charlotte looked at her in confusion. “The opening dinner for the Tournament of Champions. You did qualify. I look forward to seeing the man beneath the armor.” Turning back to address Becky fully. “Congratulations.”

Before Charlotte could begin to walk away Becky did something incredibly stupid. Sliding off her glove and reaching out to hold the princess’ hand. Watching the other woman’s eyes to make sure she wasn’t overstepping as she raised it up and let the crown of her helm gently touch the soft hand that her own heavily calloused hand loosely held.

Charlotte felt a rush of electricity through her and the contact. The knight’s hand a map of the hard work it had endured yet somehow still softer than any man’s she’d ever held prior. It reminded her of Dana’s hands actually.

She tried to hide the blush on her cheeks at the gesture and quickly retreated back to her carriage.

“Don’t say a thing.” She said to a grinning Dana.

“Wasn’t going to.”

Several hours later the three conspirators counted up their share of the winnings.

“This is just enough that we can find a place. Settle in and find new jobs.” Finn thought aloud.

“Keep a roof over our head and not be tied down to a moron. Sign me up.” Sasha joked back. “What do you think Becks?”

Becky was silent as she thought. “What if we didn’t do that…”

“What? That’s what we went through all this trouble for.” Finn exclaimed.

“But what if we could make more?”

It was Finn’s turn to be silent.

“What if we double down and enter the Tournament of Champions. We’ve got almost two months to train and figure out how to pull it off. Think about it.” Becky pleaded before either could cut her off. “I went along with your crazy plan and it actually worked. If we could place better than tenth we’d make twice what we did here… That’s only tenth out of twelve. I can probably even do better than that if we actually train for this.”

“And you think we could pull this off again? I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“It’s my choice.”

Sasha had been stunned into silence at first but finally unfroze. “Are you serious? Before this you were perfectly content with getting away with today’s crime and being done. Now you suddenly want to roll the dice again? In the heart of the kingdom at the biggest event of the year?”

Becky shrugged. “Things changed.”

Sasha scoffed. “More like you got a crush and want to show off. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you looked at her.”

“At who?” Becky’s voice reaching a high pitch that made it clear she knew exactly what Sasha meant.

“Don’t act like you don’t know. I’m not going to take this risk just so you can try and bed the princess.”

“WAIT! What?” Finn broke in.

Sasha ignored him. “What are you going to do? Just show up as you are? You can’t pass off as a man. They’d notice in a second when you’re outside the armor.”

“I don’t know. But we have time to think of something.”

“Oh great. We have time. Fat lot of good that’ll do. Know any sorcerers that can make you a man?”

“At least I’m thinking instead of making snide comments.” Becky snapped back. The two women’s fiery personalities clashing.

“I could do it.”

“Excuse me?” Becky and Sasha said at the same time. Turning to look at Finn with a curious look.

“No one there will have seen Sir Dudley in person. I could impersonate him for functions outside the actual tournament and no one should know it’s you in the armor.”

“It sounds insane, but it could work. Me and Becky could travel as your assistants and you become the face of our knight.”

“I suppose.” Becky said. Suddenly feeling a little less excited with her plan but she couldn’t back out after being the one to introduce it.

“Well then I suppose we should get to work.” Sasha clapped her hands together and grinned at the siblings. “We’ve got to get Becky as ready as we can, and we’ve got to somehow pass you off as a noble.” She teased Finn.

“I think I’ll clean up well enough.” Finn talked back to the other woman with a grin.

Becky kept a smile on her face at the light banter as the two began to brainstorm. She tried her best to push down the rush of irrational jealousy at idea of her brother being able to openly interact with the princess, but she knew this was the only way that had a chance of working.

There was no point in being upset anyway. It wasn’t like she’d ever stand a chance of capturing the royal’s attention.

She just needed to focus on her part and improving before the tournament.

If only she could forget the way Charlotte’s hand felt, or the way just a smile made her feel like she could fly.

That wasn’t going to be a problem, as long as she could get over her crush by the time the tournament started, she’d be fine.

She had almost two months.

That’d be easy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked this! It's been a while since I've wrote something like this and I would appreciate any feedback, or kudos you'd like to leave.
> 
> Whenever you're ready this I hope you are having a great day, and remember that you can change your stars. 
> 
> Ciao for now!


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